Long Manager Poems
Long Manager Poems. Below are the most popular long Manager by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Manager poems by poem length and keyword.
All I hear of Hilton Hotels is terrible,
making mistakes but taking the money,
slanderous to staff now that ain’t funny,
acting all proper job
when a proper nob,
discrimination I can prove
seeing certain staff removed,
we had no HR we could turn to
the manager had no concern for staff like you
setting me up to be disciplined and sacked
somewhat misfired though that plan, fact,
and when I was eventually fired
it was illegally done I’m no liar,
if Hilton Hotels challenge this poem as libel
then I will prove it’s not a lie I will,
they keep managers that manage like monsters
power mad heads become like satanic imposters,
this manager got sacked but still works for them
he's the manager of the York Hilton
they charge too much
care too little
so to Hilton Hotels here’s my middle!!!
We moved six times she tells him.
I moved nineteen times when I was a kid.
She stares at him. “That must have been rough.”
He shrugs. “I am better for it.”
She had told him that she was an assistant manager.
He used to have that kind of job before he became a vice president.
She told him about her car wreck. He had been through three of them.
Her hobby was flying a drone airplane; he was working on his pilot’s license.
This lunch meet up has been uncomfortably strange so far.
She told him she had four brothers.
He said that he had eight brothers.
He one-upped her every which way but loose.
“I just started the heaviest period,” she imagined herself saying.
She started laughing and she could not stop.
He begged her to tell her what was so funny.
She was laugh-sobbing now.
“Mr. Edwards please make your way to the managers office,”
James could picture her pimply face as she expressed each syllable from her orifice.
The twenty that walked down the isle to his office were laid off,
A young blooded manager was reducing the work force, his name, “Mr Scoff.”
How Ironic,
Sitting in his flashy office drinking Gin and Tonic.
James walked the death row isle,
His colleagues faces staring helplessly, none with a smile.
Architecture was his life and this was the end it seemed,
His pencil would not draw another success for Designer Beam.
The old carpet’s familiar crunchy sound,
Under his shoes many happy memories of the now ghosts that paced up and down.
The walk seemed longer this time, then he paused at the door for a while,
He briefly turned to see the head peaking over the partitions, none offering an
encouraging smile.
James faced the door, cleared his throat before knocking and with a bowed head he
went in,
Faint murmurs were heard outside as if debating a his fate for a cardinal sin.
Mr. Scoff’s scornful laugh was heard through the door,
Then absolute quietness, nothing was heard any more.
An hour later Scoff walked down the isle,
With his briefcase in hand daring someone to smile.
Fifteen minutes later, James quietly came out
Everyone looked at him questioningly, none knew took place or what it was all about
He turned and removed Scoff’s name from the door
And replaced it with Mr. J.C. Edwards Lotto winner, say no more...
It's because of the bacon.
Yeah, it looks good on the menu, sitting there at the rim of the plate. Glistening. Archetypally ridged and ruffled. Positioned perfectly next to the eggs over easy, the pancakes, buxom and buttered, the sausage links, dwarfed but respectable.
Net, the Grand Slam holds its own. At $5.99 ($7.99 in select areas), it's still a bargain. The eggs are fine. The pancakes are as good as any. The sausage links are, you know, OK.
But the bacon... The bacon b-a-con. A swindle, a masquerade, a false promise, a double-cross, tissue-thin, gossamer, anorexic, nervous (nervosa in Spanish), frail, skittish, fragile, and afraid. Overcooked, ipso brittle, short crust, and crumbling. Try to cut a slice, and "snap-chink!" Chips fly everywhere. The knife (if you use one) smacks the porcelain. The fork is stunned, helpless; its tines useless as the spoon.
"Crack!" Oh, I'm sorry ma'am. I didn't mean to do that. Do you want me to brush it off your plate? Hey, a little piece went in your salad, a bacon bit. Do you like bacon bits? I think they're good. And there're not usually made of real bacon."
What are you gonna do with your eggs now? The Grand Slam doesn't come with toast. Everybody's looking at you, waiting to see your next move. "Yeah, I like to mix eggs with my pancakes. You don't do that sometimes? Really? It's good. You want a bite? No? OK..."
It's not the cook's fault. What's he supposed to do? He can barely see the damn things on the grill. Can't blame the waitress or the shift manager. The pigs are probably regular size. You can't expect the stock holders to take up pitchforks. What do you want for $5.99 ($7.99 in select areas)?
That's why I stopped going to Denny's.
Note: The person who lived next store to me growing up invented bacon bits for McCormick. True story.
Mince Munseun and Anais Zonte' Dider
Of "Soothing Grooves" Used the
"Audacity Fix" to thrash
The Nepheliums with there manager
Dick Maddox
"Bassy" "The Axe" Kualmurphy
Lucked up with a win over
"Minnesota " Enos Eyecandy
"Spiteful"Spike Soothinjour won
Over the Wolves of Winnipeg
Using a full Nelson to make
Criss Jaw bone submitt
Soothenjours partner sat at
Ringside muzzled and chained
Due to the stipulation, making it
One against to.
"Triffling" Tripe Gulbouis v.s.
Brudda Hollis Bindwinder
Never materialized as Tripe
Was attracts before the bell and
And thrown into the audience
Where four masked men
Bested him. Boxer " Humper" Ric Dais
and wrestler Valdise Ortega came to
His aid. They grabbed the mask of
One of the masked quads revealing
Big Basil Bandez, causing a near riot
As Bandez is a member of the
Championship committee.
The main event saw
Newcomer Kip "Pretty Boy" Hossendale
Beat Contenders Champion Chatt Steamboat
In a. Scientific bout that had the fans on
There feet. Hossendale wins the title.
Wedding Anniversary
On fiftieth Wedding Anniversary
Couple booked a lovely suite in hurry.
Full Moon is seen to glow
through the nice wide window.
Couple fought lot making wife angry.
Upset husband called Hotel Manager
‘Come soon, sharp, I need help my brother.
My wife wants to throw
herself through window.
She is furious on my behavior.’
Polite Manager told ‘Even it turns fatal,
I cannot interfere, matter is marital.
Try to solve yourself
I can never help.
Hotel will just watch staying impartial'.
Husband shouted ‘Sole responsibility
must go instant to Hotel Authority.
Maintenance problem,
not marital, I claim.
Open the stuck window, it is priority.
03/13/16
Let's Have Some FUN Contest Third Place
Sponsor Casarah Nance
We’ve got remainers moaning like little twitches
whining away at democratic wishes,
politicians shone bright in true lies,
selfish gains over public cries.
May Day,
May Day,
May’s way’s a crisis,
everyone’s telling her, “we just don’t like this”,
they don’t like the view envisioned ahead
few submissions of an alternative get read.
There’s the moron Corbyn a political calamity,
many adore him, I’m like “how can it be”,
leading Labour with a Royal Vendetta,
come on you reds you can do better!
This Brexit palaver needs to meet its ends,
remainers keep meeting to protest like bellends,
we’re in it together, we’re all friends,
Brexit's feeding us "offending trends".
It’s clear we need a new political manager,
not Corbyn though, he’s an amateur,
UKIP a broken unit and gone
the Lib Dems live in a state of mong
we all know the Tories have got it wrong,
soon protest parties where they don't belong.
Millions of experts that are not in office
critising like the option's obvious,
whilst behaving in ways mostly pathetic,
these "know it alls" only ever the electorate.
And I can see even the cabinet crappin’ it,
the world's watching Brexit,
we need to start blaggin' it!
I spent my day shopping for rubies.
Shades of magenta, crimson, maroon
sparkling in the ocean of my options
as stars which would make me swoon.
The old manager tried his best
to understand my specific details,
yet I couldn't explain my vision,
much to his chagrin at drooping sales.
Shimmering ruby crystals in his ancient shop
with legacies of their own and fancy cost,
onlooking my tainted desire to find a gem
didn't resemble the magic of the one I'd lost.
A ruby with shades that glitter in light
reflecting infinite rays of sepia desire
to fill my room with colours glowing bright
on my white canvas with a whispering fire.
I decided to look somewhere else for my ruby
and didn't tell him more of my coloured vision,
for his suspicious eyes revealed his doubts
in my unrealistic mist of flickering indecision.
I stepped out of his shop to be welcomed
by a magenta streak of twilight in the sky.
Ah! That was the shade I'd been looking for,
it twirled to let lilac and lavender clouds fly.
The floating clouds hovered above the shop
to form a bubble of light that danced in dark,
then swooshed to enter a desolate old ruby
next to the counter now lit with a spark.
Amazed, I'd found my precious stone at last.
I brought it cocooned in a delicate blue cover
to my room that glistens with magical ruby showers
adorning my sepia dreams on canvas like a lover.
July 13, 2020
First Line Prompt - 3 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Julia Ward
~Winner: 9th Place
PICKLE PARTY
The pickles were having a party
In the superstore one night.
The manager was home in bed
So they knew they were all right.
It was a singles party,
Each looking for a mate.
Someone to share a jar with
Until their sell-by date.
One lady pickled pepper
Immediately clicked.
She was the pickled pepper
Peter Piper picked
A young girl in the corner
Was acting very silly
Under the influence of drink.
They called her ‘Pickled Lilli”
But the drunkest one among them
Was a pickled gherkin.
He’d been at the bar all evening.
He must have drunk a firkin.
He had a well-used chat-up line,
But whatever it was he said,
It must have been a bit saucy
For the beetroot turned bright red.
An old pickle said to the DJ,
“Please turn the music down”
He was a pickled walnut,
Ancient, wrinkled and brown
A very sweet pickle called Olive
And an onion got on very well.
But although they felt an attraction,
It was doomed to fail, sad to tell
They say that opposites attract
But you have to draw the line.
She had been pickled in vinegar
And he had been pickled in brine.
Then all too soon it was over.
The party had come and gone.
They had to go home to their shelves.
The day shift was signing on.
24th August 2022
It's a Pickle Party poetry contest
Sponsor - Mystic Rose Rose
At the famous Folies Bergère
all the dancing girls fell sick
No one to entertain the tourists
who wouldn’t get to see high kicks
The manager of the venue
thought so long and very hard
He unchained the dancing bears
that lived in the tiny back yard
They went through their routine
since they’d not performed in years
They were absolutely step perfect
the manager was moved to tears
The polar bear and brown bears
became a massive hit on stage
All the dancing girls got sacked
dancing bears were all the rage!
But the animal rights campaigners
set up petitions on a Facebook group
It was deemed that the act was cruel
and disbanded the dancing bear troop
The high kicking girls were re employed
See them can can the whole night through
The dancing bears are now retired
They’ll end their days in the local zoo
Bring on the dancing bears contest
Sponsored by John Lawless
3/18/19